


Crescendo

by jujus_writing_corner



Series: Whumptober 2019 [13]
Category: Real Person Fiction, Youtube RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood, Fist Fights, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Whumptober 2019, mild body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 19:03:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21020738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujus_writing_corner/pseuds/jujus_writing_corner
Summary: MarkBop stumbles upon a fight between Bing and Google, and intervenes in a way he didn't know he was capable of (and wishes he wasn't).Whumptober Day 13: Adrenaline





	Crescendo

**Author's Note:**

> I've done smth sort of like this before in a different, much older fic, but I don't really consider that fic canon for my current version of the egos so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Enjoy!

MarkBop doesn’t realize what he’s walking into until he’s already there.

Bing and Google fight all the time. Bop knows this, objectively. He knows their arguments escalate to physical altercations fairly regularly, too. He’s seen Bing after those fights, seen his black eyes and bruised skin, sometimes even seen his arm hanging loose from its socket or his fingers broken backwards. Google fights dirty, and even if he didn’t, he’s much stronger than Bing and made to be an efficient killer. Bop can’t stand to see the aftermath of Bing and Google’s fights, but he’s never seen one in progress.

Until now.

Bop turns the corner to get to Bing’s room and sees Google straddling Bing, hands on his neck. Bing kicks wildly beneath him, tries to buck him off, digs his nails into Google’s wrists, but Google stays firm. Bing’s glasses are on the floor beside him, cracked and snapped in two places. Bing’s left eye is swollen and ringed with a black bruise, and his right is narrowed in a hateful glare directed at Google. Bop can’t see Google’s expression; his back is to him, and so far, Bing hasn’t noticed him either. But then Google lifts Bing’s neck to slam his head harder into the floor, and Bop is jolted into acting.

“Stop!” he cries, loud in the near-silence of Bing and Google’s fight.

Both pause. Bing cranes his head up to look at Bop, and the anger melts out of his expression. Google, meanwhile, glances over his shoulder, unmoved.

“Stay out of this,” he growls.

“Babe–” Bing starts, but he’s cut off as Google turns away from Bop and tightens his hands around Bing’s neck.

“Shut _up,_” Google mutters, “Just shut up already.”

“Fuck you,” Bing gasps.

“Google, stop, please,” Bop begs, voice wavering with fear, but Google ignores him.

Bop can hear his heart beating in his ears as he watches Bing struggle. He starts to tremble as adrenaline courses through him. He hears Bing’s side vents start to open up, then catch. Bing’s eyes widen as he feels it. His side vents don’t open smoothly like the Googles’ do; they’re clunky and often stick, only opening halfway. Bing doesn’t need air to breathe, but he needs it for cooling, and he’s much more prone to overheating than the Googles. And much like suffocating for a human, overheating is disastrous for an android.

Google gets up, keeping his hands around Bing’s throat, lifting him up only to slam him against the wall. It knocks the wind out of him, yet his kicking gets wilder as his body fails to replace the lost air. Bing manages to land a few kicks on Google, but Google barely reacts to the blows.

Bop’s vision starts to tunnel as panic grips his heart. He can’t think about anything other than how afraid he is for Bing. Does this happen every time they fight? When’s Google going to let him go? For god’s sake, hasn’t he already won?? Bop’s heart thumps like it’s trying to escape his chest, and he wonders if the others can hear it.

Only a few moments pass, but it feels like forever until the adrenaline crystallizes something in Bop, until it reinforces his blood instead of just pushing it through his veins hotter and faster. His field of vision widens again, and sharpens, zeroing in on the fight in front of him. He stands straighter, stops trembling. He still doesn’t think, he only acts. He looks at Bing, and the adrenaline must be in his eyes, too, sending a message, because Bing listens. He stops struggling. Google pauses, confused.

The “click” of Bing turning off his auditory sensors hangs in the air.

Before Google can react, Bop opens his mouth and _screams._

The effect is immediate. Google’s eyes widen and his body jolts backwards, twitching. He releases Bing, who falls coughing and sucking in air. Bop only knows this by sight; his own voice drowns out all other sound. His scream should hurt his own ears, but the tunneling he had in his vision is in his ears now, filtering out sound. His voice becomes an extension of himself, an arm or a leg, something he can control on instinct.

Google is still standing, locked but twitching. Bop changes his voice, pitches away from an uncontrolled scream to a smoother held note, watching how it makes Google’s body react. His arms curl around wrong, his fingers bend back, the color in his eyes flickers out to gray. His jaw drops open, then clacks back together with so much force that Bop sees cracks form in his teeth. Oil leaks out of his nose, his ears. Bing is watching, awestruck, morbidly fascinated. Despite not hearing the sound, it still vibrates his body, making him tremble. Meanwhile, the only voluntary movement Google seems capable of is the violent bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he tries to breathe through the pain – that is, until a well-timed vibrato in Bop’s voice stills it. He dips into a low note to shut Google’s side vents and keep them closed. Google no longer seems capable of fear, body and mind too absorbed in agony, futilely bracing against the waves of Bop’s voice. Finally, Bop twists the note back into the raw scream he started with before ending abruptly, and Google’s shoulder pops as he collapses.

The first thing Bop does is suck in a huge breath, gasping for air the way Bing did earlier, having used nearly too much air on that long note. His mind rushes to catch up with what happened, with what he did. Google is motionless. Bing has gotten up from the floor and clicked his auditory sensors back on, and he runs to Bop to hug him.

“Babe, that was _insane,_” Bing gasps, “That was incredible, you totally saved my ass, I didn’t know you could do that–”

“I don’t know what came over me,” Bop coughs, voice now raw and raspy, “Bing, what did I do!? What did I do, what did I do…!”

“Bop – woah, hey!” Bing exclaims as Bop slides to the floor, beginning to hyperventilate. He grabs Bop’s shoulders and manages to keep him from a hard landing. “Bop, look at me, babycakes.”

But Bop doesn’t take his eyes off Google, who continues to lay inert, still bleeding oil. Bop’s head is swimming. His throat is burning. His heart is pounding away again, hammering at his chest wall, rattling his ribcage. His vision tunnels again, like his hearing did, like his voice did – what on _earth_ did his voice do?? He’s known for a long time that there’s power in his voice but nothing he’s ever been able to control, nothing like _this. _He starts trembling. He feels sick. He remembers using more control over his voice than he’s ever had before, he remembers pulling and pushing it like a weapon, he remembers the feeling of pure power spilling out of throat, the way it tuned to Google’s circuitry, to his mechanical muscles, to contract them and rip at them as he desired. And he had _desired. _There was no thought, no conscious decision or effort, only an instinct to harm. Is this how the powerful egos feel? Is this how Dark feels when he maims and manipulates with his aura? Is this how Wilford feels when he bends reality around him? If it is, Bop doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want this power. He doesn’t want to be dangerous. He doesn’t want to hurt people. He starts crying.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Bop sobs, “I just wanted him to stop. I didn’t want to hurt him.”

“Shh, Boppy,” Bing murmurs, hugging Bop tight and stroking his hair. “I’m sending a ping to Ollie so he can come help Google, and I’ll tell him to bring Doc for you, too.” He kisses the side of Bop’s head. “You’re okay, everything’s gonna be okay.”

Bop can’t help but feel that everything is different now. The adrenaline, shooting through his beleaguered heart for the second time today, seems to whisper that to him, reminding him of his own unwanted power.

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Bop, he's a good boi. He didn't want to go that far ;w;
> 
> Word of god tho, Google'll be fine. I actually kind of want to continue this, though, because I can imagine what'll happen when a certain edgelord finds out about Bop's ability...>:3c


End file.
